


Science of Sex

by thepsychicclam



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People didn’t generally put <i>Temperance Brennan</i> and <i>sex</i> in the same sentence</p>
            </blockquote>





	Science of Sex

People didn’t generally put _Temperance Brennan_ and _sex_ in the same sentence. She did not do what other women did to make herself sexy; she didn’t purposefully wear low-cut tops or short skirts, didn’t drench herself in perfumes, didn’t speak coquettishly to men. Brennan, instead, always relied on her genetically evolved good bone structure and intelligence to attract any man she wanted. If a man wasn’t attracted to her for those two fundamental qualities, then she did not want him.

Angela always told her she needed to get out more. Brennan got out plenty – she went to work, investigated cases with Booth, occasionally went to a museum. What Brennan finally realized Angela meant was that she needed to _date_ more. She wasn’t quite sure why Angela equated getting out with dating, because she got out plenty without dating and had not gotten out at all on some of her very best dates.

Brennan had never been as man and sex obsessed as Angela. Sex was natural and extremely enjoyable, and she had been involved in a respectable amount of sexual encounters for her age – she was a woman, after all. But just because she didn’t “go out”, throw herself at men, and talk about sex all the time, people considered her more an asexual being than a sexual being. Brennan understood something that most people didn’t – sex was a logical biological process that was completely different than feeling and love.

But Brennan knew she was a sexual being. She felt attraction just like everyone else (a woman who didn’t feel attraction didn’t start sleeping with her forensic anthropology professor or stand-in FBI agents). So when she felt herself attracted to Booth, she knew it was completely natural. He was attractive, she was attractive, and sharing the stressful experiences they did so often made an attraction even more understandable. And unless she was wrong (which she rarely was), Booth had just as much an attraction to her.

The night Booth kissed Brennan outside her door, it made perfect sense. She understood the increase in her heartbeat, the flush of her skin. She opened the door and led him inside, lips still together and working furiously. Booth had wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her so close she was barely able to shut and lock the door behind her. She realized just how much bigger Booth’s body was than her own, and she ran her hands over the expanse of his shoulders to calculate their width, down his arms to hands-on judge his muscles, slid her arms around his waist to feel how solid he was.

She jumped in his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed and didn’t let go when he sat on the edge. She enjoyed the way his stubble burned her cheek when he kissed her. She shivered when his lips ghosted just behind her ear and against the dip of her clavicle.

She explored his body with scientific curiosity. She checked off body parts in her head as she touched them, memorized the specific way Booth’s felt underneath her touch. She recorded the temperature of his skin, the coarseness of his hair between her fingers, the way his hips formed over his pelvic bone. She predicted the husky quality of his voice, but it didn’t stop the involuntary shudder as he whispered Bones against her ear. She didn’t even get annoyed when he called her _Bones_ because calling her _Temperance_ or _Brennan_ just wouldn’t sound right.

She gasped when he entered her and noted how he felt between her legs, as he pushed inside her again and again. Her fingers curled around his and her legs lifted around his back as her body naturally responded to his.

They were a logical mass of sweat, hormones, and gasping breath.

She felt him inside her, around her, part of her. She moaned freely as she climaxed, grasping Booth tighter and wanting him deeper as she orgasmed. She detected the low groan Booth made when she dug her nails into his back, discovered the ripple of his muscles as he moved above her. She charted Booth’s progress from thrusting smoothly to erratic jerks as he moved faster, stronger, then experienced him as he orgasmed.

Afterwards, she lay there and experienced Booth with all her senses.

Booth and the sense of sight as she studied every part of his damp, naked body lying stretched out beside her. She studied his eyes, and the way they looked at her with softness and adoration. His lips, perfectly shaped and still damp with her saliva. The way he looked when he kissed a line between her breasts to below her bellybutton. The differences in their skins pressed so closely together. The scars on his arm, side, and leg from a lifetime ago. Hint of a mandible, clavicle, phalanx, sternum, patella, tibia, metatarsal. Fine lines and soft tissue that covered his bones.

Booth and the sense of smell as she nuzzled her face against his neck, a mix of sweat, sex, and pine.

Booth and the sense of taste as she licked along his jaw, tiny prickles against her tongue. The dip at the base of his throat, slick with sweat. The crease where his leg met his hip, soft and salty. She kissed the inside of his elbow, kissed right above his pelvic bone. She kissed his mouth and learned what flavor Booth was.

Booth and the sense of hearing as she placed her ear right above his heart and heard it beating beneath his strong chest.

Booth and the sense of touch as she lay in his arms, as much of her body touching his as possible. Skin against skin contact, that should have felt like every other contact she had every experienced, yet somehow felt different. Soft tugs against her hair follicles because of his fingers in her hair. Pressure on her side from the weight of his hand. Prickles of nerve endings in her cheek with his lips against it.

And as they lay in each other’s arms, speaking in half-whispers in between dozing, she knew the feeling in her stomach was a reaction to the intense physical ordeal her body experienced and the chemicals released during the process.

Because it was only sex, after all.

-fin  



End file.
